


Varian's Slutty Adventure, Or, Varian is a Gay Nymphomaniac.

by Kevv_Touches_Butts



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, My First AO3 Post, many homo, such gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kevv_Touches_Butts/pseuds/Kevv_Touches_Butts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varian fucks everyone, eventually. The royal attendants don't even pay attention anymore.</p><p> </p><p>My first work on here. Cannot guarantee miracles or accuracy. Will be updates in the future.<br/>(Sorry it's been dead for a long time. I might come back to it but don't be waiting on the edge of your seat.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Varian's Slutty Adventure, Or, Varian is a Gay Nymphomaniac.

It started out innocently enough… Vol’jin had took momentary notice of something he wasn't aware of before while the King of Stormwind had his back turned. He was speaking to a guard of his, dismissing them so that he may speak freely. This was a meeting that others were supposed to attend, but none had arrived yet.

The Troll was fixated on something else for the time being after dismissing his own guards. The human King had such lovely and well-maintained hair. To Vol’jin’s surprise, Varian’s hair was not an inky black like he'd thought, never seeing him up close like this before and honestly never bothering to pay attention before. It was actually a very fine dark brown, like fresh black coffee. Some strange urge overtook him to reach out and touch a small strand, hoping it might go unnoticed.

There were stands with the tiniest hints of gold, red and black all in that one small group. His hair was… Uncommonly soft. Like brown silk. Softer than any woman’s hair he’d ever touched.

He meant to release the strand, and instead it snagged between his fingers, which had become slightly sticky from sweat. When did his hand start to sweat?

There was not a look of anger as expected upon the King’s face as he quickly turned to face the troll, but a look of.. Fear? Instinctual fear. He looked positively terrified for just a moment after the fact, as if in his previous life that had been a prelude to a savage beating. His face hardened immediately afterward, and Vol’jin could see the human's entire body tense up and become like stone.

Vol’jin’s curiosity persisted, however. He knew he was greatly overstepping his bounds, humans were not this touchy-feely in polite interactions. Vol’jin’s large, blue-skinned hand reached behind the King's head, firmly grasping his ponytail holder. It was a small gilded gold ring with blue inlay, and it was warm to the touch. Varian radiated a kind of cautionary warmth from everywhere. With a fluid motion, he pulled it out of Varian’s hair, releasing the lovely brown locks everywhere. So much of it, spilling down his back and shoulders. Almost too soft. Everything else about this tough little human was so rough.

Varian immediately froze, wearing an intense look of confusion, nearly recoiling at the troll’s touch. They shared a moment of stiff silence before Varian spoke. “What are you doing?” His voice was soft, the words hissed out.

Vol’jin was overcome in the moment, saying nothing, merely holding the small ring of metal that had bound the King’s locks. Vol’jin thought back to stories he’d heard of this same man fighting for his life in an arena, thinking of those lovely brown locks swirling around him as he spilled blood into the sand.

Varian snatched the ring back, “If people see me like this, there will be a lot of talk.” He turned his back to him, desperately trying to messily bind up his hair once more. A job he usually implemented servants for, no doubt. He quickly covered that vulnerability Vol’jin had so secretly seen and savored with that vanity that a King must show for their reputation. “Do that again and you just might lose that hand.”

It was at that moment, perhaps, that Vol’jin became more curious about such a man that would dare speak to him in such a way. Curiosity that very well gave way to coveting.

He was gentle when he brushed the King’s hands away from his own hair, and he saw and felt him flinch. He gathered all of it up and without pulling so much as a single strand, braided a very small segment so that the ring might slide on easily. He held his hand out for it, and it was given to him with some slight hesitation. He slid it back in its original place, though it held tighter and looked a bit neater than before.

Vol’jin drew back, and seemed to pretend that nothing had happened just now. Varian turned around, awestruck and offended and… Something else. There was another look in his eyes, one Vol’jin had never seen directed at himself. Perhaps at attendants who had lingered close, or an attractive passerby. Hunger, perhaps, for another encounter.

Vol’jin, a shy one by nature, simply disregarded this. He thought he had likely misinterpreted this.

He was proven wrong when they were seated near each other later that night and he felt a warm, rough hand ghosting up his thigh. It headed elsewhere and he startled, bumping the table and catching the ire of Lor’themar, who shook his head after a glance in his direction, and carried on chatting with Sylvanas in Thalassian.

The hand returned, this time with nails scraping lightly. Vol’jin took notice that Varian wasn’t even looking his way, he was speaking with his son who was seated across from him.

Scandalous… Exciting.

There was no one sitting next to him on his side, and the tablecloth seemed to cover up the whole affair. Attendants were pointedly turning a blind eye.

The hot hand shuffled further to the side and reached for something that made both of them freeze immediately. Varian’s eyes widened mid-sentence, and he choked on his words. Vol’jin accidentally snapped off the tassel on the tablecloth he’d been fiddling with nervously. No one mourned the tassel as it fell to the ground.

Much to Vol’jin’s surprise, naively having thought his sheer size might have scared off the… Invader… Varian excused his misstep of words, blaming a fruit seed he must have swallowed by mistake, and took a sip of his wine and began speaking normally.. Though slightly more enthusiastically.

The hand moved forward after a small flattering pat of the troll’s inner thigh, gripping the thick organ it had initially drawn away from. He was complimenting his size, and moving right past his defenses.

Vol’jin lifted his eyes in panic, seeing that he was noticed by only one seated at the table. The ember-red eyes of the Black Prince, Wrathion, studied his posture, taking obvious notice that something was happening. Wrathion was seated next to Varian’s son, and had lingered closely to him the entire evening. He raised his eyebrows suggestively as a silent and mischievous laugh moved through him. Thankfully, he alerted no one, but he knew and made it known that the irony was not lost on him. In fact, he found it very amusing.

Vol’jin popped off another tassel as the hand withdrew back to Varian’s lap. What a long night it was going to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for believing in me.  
> Leave comments if you think something can be improved upon.


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